


You're My Rome

by AliceMarylin1999



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:34:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMarylin1999/pseuds/AliceMarylin1999
Summary: Book Crowley and Aziraphale.After non-Apocalypse of 1990, they grow closer and by the year 1999 they are already best friends. Crowley finds himself in love with Aziraphale, but while being extremely stressed and overwhelmed he makes a serious mistake and hurts Aziraphale.Eventual happy ending!





	You're My Rome

Nine years had passed since the Apocalypse that didn't happen. 

Crowley still lived in his flat in Mayfair and still wasn't doing much with his life except for terrorizing his plants, driving his Bentley around London and pulling off new outfits and hairstyles every couple of years. He hadn’t been an ambitious or extremely adventurous type even before things that happen during summer 1990, and now that the Apocalypse was postponed for yet another couple of millennia he had all the more reasons to indulge in the most leisurely lifestyle possible.

The thing that had changed, however, was his relationship with Aziraphale.

During the years when they tried to raise the faux Antichrist Warlock, they started meeting more frequently than ever before, and their partnership grew to become something more resembling friendship. Then their entire scheme fell apart and they were left to faced Satan on their own, but much to their luck, they not only survived it but were later left alone by their respective head offices (due diligence of true Antichrist, Adam Young).

The Arrangement they had before no longer of any use to them. Strictly speaking, neither were they to one another. The question of "need" wasn’t there any longer, and they were left with the question of “want”. So, after Crowley came back home from his celebratory lunch with Aziraphale and slept for about three weeks, and woke up, finally, a free demon, he decided to visit Aziraphale’s bookshop and ask his friend out for a nice walk. The sole reason Crowley did that, was that he wanted his company. And much to his joy, the feeling proved to be mutual.

For the nine years that followed, Aziraphale and Crowley proceeded from being "a sort of friends" to something one might call "best friends". They traveled together to the continent a number of times, met for the holidays, saw movies together and even chatted on the phone every now and then. That seemed strange at first, for both of them, since neither ever had any sort of friendship, but over the first couple of years, it became so natural that they soon forgot it used to be different.

Progressing friendship meant more familiarity. As Crowley stayed more often in the backroom of Aziraphale's bookshop for a round of drinks, it was only a matter of time before the weather seemed too nasty for him to go home and he stayed for the night sleeping on a sofa. Within a year Aziraphale got him a pajama and a toothbrush of his own that stayed in a bookshop.

Then they started traveling together, which meant sitting side by side for hours in trains, buses, and airplanes. Surprisingly enough, angel proved to be an extremely pleasant, quiet and thoughtful companion (perhaps, to his own shame, Crowley couldn't say as much about himself). Crowley preferred to sleep during the long road trip, and before long he started sleeping on Aziraphale's shoulder or his lap. It was then when they became close for the first time - in the most literal and physical meaning of this word.

Much to his surprise, Crowley found himself being appealed by the proximity to his friend, and the smell of his hair and skin was unexpectedly enjoyable. The thought had never crossed his mind before, but when he started getting close to Aziraphale during those long trips he felt somewhat sad or disappointed when the bus or the train stopped and he had to pull away.

At first, they always booked separate rooms. But soon enough it became obvious that they spent a good portion of night talking and drinking together and there was enough space for them in one room, and they started booking one room instead of two, and after a while, they even opted for a single bed. Aziraphale picked up a napping habit from Crowley and managed to fall asleep as soon as the lights were out (if he wanted to, which he often did), and left Crowley alone with his thoughts next to him, at nights when Crowley couldn't sleep. And Crowley could rarely sleep with him so close. He listened to Aziraphale's breath and wondered if it was fine if he wanted to lean closer and breathe in the fresh and clean smell of angel's hair if it was alright if he wanted to take him in his arms and feel the warmth of his embrace, if... And after a while, those thoughts led him quickly to the dawn light when he watched Aziraphale wake up and lied to him that he, too, had a good night's sleep.

By the year 1999, Crowley got used to the feeling of longing and ill-fitted tenderness during their trips, but he wasn’t prepared for the same thing happening back in London. They spent New Year in Austria and came back at the beginning of January, traveling by car this time. As Crowley dropped sleepy Aziraphale at his bookshop late at night and drove back to his place he felt sudden emptiness and sorrow, something he had never felt before. He couldn’t get the image of his friend out of his head, couldn’t stop hearing his voice, and this sudden change left him terrified. He tossed and turned all night, wondering if what he felt was at all appropriate.

He came over to the bookshop the next morning and was prepared for a cold shoulder from Aziraphale, whom he didn’t call beforehand… But Aziraphale seemed to be more than happy to see him. He made Crowley some tea and let him spent the entire day in the backroom of his bookshop, while he himself was busy arranging the new books in his collection.

The thought of falling in love with the angel seemed utterly ridiculous. It wasn’t so because Crowley was a demon, no. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of love per se – he loved the humanity, he loved his car, he loved his plants, he even loved Aziraphale as an old friend loves an old friend, but romantic love? The kind of love that makes a person want to kiss and hold and never let go of the beloved one? That seemed a kind of thing from someone else’s book, not Crowley’s (not that he had ever read any).

The way Aziraphale looked at him made it even harder. Crowley always knew his friend to be a little bit cold and prudish – an embodiment of some of the most well-known stereotypes about Brits (sometimes he wondered if it was Aziraphale who invented Britishness as a concept) and he got used to it though centuries. But Crowley couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t the only one who changed over time. Aziraphale became warmer, the way he spoke to Crowley, the way he looked at him, the way he greeted him at his bookshop. He smiled more often those last few years, and this smile was one Crowley had never seen before the non-Apocalypse, and it had nothing in common with Aziraphale’s usually polite and reserved smile.

The smile he started seeing more often was a happy one, a soft one, one that made those lovely dimples on angel’s cheeks, one that made his blue eyes smile. Crowley never considered his counterpart particularly handsome – not that it mattered in their partnership anyway – but when he began seeing Aziraphale smiling like that he realized how beautiful, deep and captivating his eyes were. Looking in those eyes was like looking in the summer sky after a long and refreshing rain. Aziraphale had an absolutely ordinary face for any passer-by – and it made perfect sense since his job was to blend in with the crowd – but when he smiled, and laughed, and blushed and said “my dear boy”, he was truly charming and very hard to not fall in love with.

All those feelings made a mess inside Crowley’s head and he started finding himself brooding and nervous and sad more often than not. He felt guilty for being like that around Aziraphale who was all smiles when they were together, but he also couldn’t bear to be without him for longer than one evening.

One night, at the end of February, they walked out of a restaurant after having dinner. The Bentley was not in the picture – the traffic was horrible, and the weather was beautiful, and they both decided to have a walk. When they walked to a particularly crowdy street, Crowley suddenly felt the angel’s hand taking his own.

“I think this snowfall is indeed a miracle of nature, Crowley”, Aziraphale smiled.

“Well I can tell a proper miracle when I see one, and it does not include so much dampness and cold”, Crowley answered grimly.

Crowley’s heart was racing in his chest. The snowfall, the smiling angel, that sudden touch – it was far too romantic for one demon who had never in his long-century life experienced anything like that. He was used to plagues, to shipwrecks, to world wars, to pits of Hell, to facing the Apocalypse… But not to romance. Not to something like that. He started to panic.

“So… My bookshop is that way”, Aziraphale went on. “Would you be so kind as to keep me company?”, he asked with that same charming smile, looking at Crowley with warmth and hope.

He wasn’t ready. He didn’t know what to say.

He knew what Aziraphale meant. Walk him home, holding hands, and, finally, kiss him goodbye… On the one hand, it was all he desired. And it had been building for a while, and for a long while, if he was perfectly honest with himself. On the other hand, it was too much. Too overwhelming. He was unprepared. Unarmed. Crowley was in a state of deep panic.

“Right”, he said, trying desperately to sound careless. “Let’s go. I hope you don’t expect me to go hand in hand with you and kiss you goodnight on the doorstep, though”, he said with a fake sneer and took his hand back, as it was shaking from all this stress and he couldn’t bear to let it show, “It’s not my…”

And before he could finish, he realized what a huge mistake he had just made, but it was too late. That lovely warm smile quickly faded from Aziraphale’s face, and dimples on his cheeks disappeared. For sheer seconds, to Crowley’s utter horror, there was an unfeigned pain on angel’s face – his eyebrows frowned, his mouth twitched and his eyes… Oh, how Crowley hated to see so much sadness and hurt in those eyes he had already learned to love. The angel looked very young and very fragile at that moment – a face of pure and betrayed softness.

Crowley opened his mouth to say how sorry he was, but his friend’s face has changed in a flicker – and now Aziraphale smiled with his perfectly normal polite smile and said:

“Of course not, dear boy. Why would you even imply such a thing? I think I shall go home myself. Take care” – and disappeared in the crowd.

As soon as Crowley got over his shock, he rushed in to catch up with Aziraphale, but he was gone now. Crowley couldn’t find him in the crowd and on the crossroad, and he had no idea in which direction Aziraphale went. He thought of running to the bookshop, but then suddenly he felt so much heaviness in his head and his chest, that he just couldn’t make himself do it. He felt so heavy he could barely walk as if he could lie down in the middle of a street and not care about the rest of the world. He caught a cab and drove home, and as he came back he lied on his bed with his coat on. It took him about an hour to at least take his boots off. He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling.

Crowley tried extremely hard to not think about anything, to just wipe his mind clean and disappear for a moment. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Aziraphale, that lovely sweet smile fading from his face and sadness deepening in his eyes. The heaviness in Crowley’s chest seemed unbearable, and though he didn’t really need to breathe, it seemed to him he was suffocating.

The truth was, before that night, Crowley had never hurt anyone in his long-century life. He could’ve hurt people since he was a demon, but he always opted for making minor or major inconveniences that would cause people to sin. Traffic jams, telemarketers, electric blackouts. That was kind of things Crowley used to do as a demon, not something personal. And no one really cared about him enough to be hurt by his actions. The only person who did was the same person Crowley had so desperately fallen in love with and the same, and the first person, that he hurt. Crowley was paralyzed with a mix of unknown and overwhelming emotions – guilt, fear, regret, sadness, and above all, love. The moment Aziraphale disappeared, he became so painfully aware of this love that he wanted nothing more than to turn back time and gladly do exactly what the angel asked him to do, only the angel was no longer there.

When morning came, Crowley was still in a state of deep shock, but he somehow convinced himself to get out of bed, take shower, change into new clothes and make a plan. He decided to drive to Aziraphale’s bookshop, find him and apologize. He was also going to tell him how he felt, however stupid he might sound. The only thing he wanted now was to see that beautiful smile again and to never see the pain that clouded the angel’s eyes. If that meant admitting his stupidity and embarrassing himself, he was willing to pay the price.

The roads were empty and Crowley was at the bookshop’s doorstep within minutes, but the door was closed. “Of course, it’s closed”, Crowley thought “If he’s crying in there, I…Uh, better not think about it”

He rang the bell once, and twice, and dozens of times before the door opened. But it wasn’t Aziraphale who opened it – it was some unfamiliar old man.

“Can I help you, sir?”, the man asked.

“Where is Azi… I mean, Mr. Fell? And who the Hell are you?”, Crowley asked anxiously.

“I may ask the same question, sir”, an old man asked coldly.

Crowley was too nervous to keep up appearances, and he took off his glasses and grabbed the old man by his jacket. The sight of snake eyes on an otherwise normal young gentleman seemed to inspire some degree of fear in the man.

“I’m Crowley, I’m his best friend, where is he? Who the Hell are you?” Crowley asked in angry low voice while gazing in man’s eyes unblinkingly.

“I’m sorry, mister Crowley, but mister Fell didn’t tell me where he is”, Old man muttered. “I’m his manager, Alfred Tate, Mr. Fell hired me two months ago to help him with his collection. We had an agreement that I am to work in his stead for double wage if he ever has to leave. He called me this morning and told me he won’t be here in three weeks at the very least. That’s all I know”.

Crowley let go of the man. He felt ashamed for snapping, but also overwhelmed by what he heard. Aziraphale left. He left.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Crowley said, sighing, and put his shades on. “I’m sorry. Have a nice day”.

He walked away without looking back. Aziraphale was gone and only God himself knew where to. Maybe he left in the morning, maybe he left at night, but one thing was certain – it was because of Crowley. He knew he was already fallen and cursing himself wouldn’t have made him any more damned as he, a demon, already was. But that was all he could do.

Crowley wandered through streets of London for hours – he desperately tried to find Aziraphale in all the places he could think of – his favorite restaurants, shops, at his tailor’s, at his barber’s – all in vain. Cold and miserable, he walked to St. James Park, to the place they had been meeting for centuries, without little to no hope to find the angel there. He walked up to the bench where they used to sit – it was covered with snow and seemed very lonely now. He looked around and saw no one even remotely resembling Aziraphale. And then the last hope flickered in his mind – the post office. He suddenly remembered that the angel told him he was to receive some very important package on that very day and he even mentioned the exact post office where he was about to pick it. It was still early in the afternoon and Aziraphale had never known to come early anywhere especially post office, so there still was a big chance to find him there.

Crowley caught a cab and drove to the office, which, to his luck was rather small and found himself a chair near the entrance. And then he started to wait.

Time had never been as slow as it was there for Crowley, as he watched people come and go, enter and leave, and none of them were Aziraphale… Until one of them was.

“Angel!”, Crowley shouted as he saw Aziraphale enter.

Angel didn’t look sad, but that somehow was not good. His expression was rather empty, and Crowley recognized that expression – he saw it countless times, when the angel spoke to different people… But never with Crowley.

“Angel”, Crowley gasped, as he took Aziraphale by shoulders “I found you, oh… I need to talk to you. Listen, I…”

“Crowley, I’m afraid you should let me go”, Aziraphale said courtly and dryly, taking demon’s hands of himself. “I need to take my package”.

“Of course, but… Please, let me talk to you outside. Please, angel”, Crowley begged.

“Fine, now let me go. I don’t have much time”

Crowley went outside, his head dizzy from everything he felt at that moment. He didn’t know what he was about to say. The only thing he knew, he wouldn’t let Aziraphale leave thinking he didn’t care, thinking that stupid thing he told him the night before was the real him.

It was getting dark and cold, but Crowley got used to the cold since the morning. At last, Aziraphale left the post office with a bid package in his hands.

“Is it heavy? Do you need help?”, Crowley asked, desperately wishing to take the angel’s hand.

“No, thank you. I prefer to carry it myself”

Angel’s eyes let out no emotion whatsoever.

“I came to your bookshop first thing in the morning. There was this man, your… manager, or whatever. He told me you left. That you’ll be gone for weeks”

“That’s right, Crowley. I’m leaving England”

That was something Crowley didn’t see in his worst nightmares.

“Wh-who-ehhmm”, he managed to mumble.

“I’m going to Rome. I’ve had this offer for a year now, to help some of my good acquaintances with some ancient – well, early first century, not ANCIENT-ancient – scripts. I accepted the offer”, Aziraphale said all while looking Crowley in the eyes with a cold, unnerving stare. “I hope you didn’t imagine, Crowley, that I have no friends and no life apart from you, did you?” – now that was said almost spitefully. “It’s interesting work. I like Rome, it’s warm here, delicious food, you know it yourself, we’ve been there together after all. Mr. Tate will arrange my affairs with the bookshop. I’ll visit him twice a month to see if everything’s fine”.

Crowley didn’t know how even to begin speaking after what he’d just heard.

“Ehm… Alright, that was a bit shocking… Aziraphale” he finally managed to say. “I need to tell you something. Now”

"Go on, Crowley”, Aziraphale said coldly. “But don’t think I will change my plans because of you. Whatever you say. I'm moving to Rome, and I'll be here in London only two times a month. I made up my mind"

"Alright. It’s fine"

"Oh, is it? Thank you very much for your permission!" – Aziraphale sneered angrily.

"It's not what I meant, angel"

"As you say. So, what was it?"

"Look, I'm... Confused. I don't know how to say it” – Crowley’s head was spinning. He had no idea what he was doing “I have feelings for you. There, I said it. Feelings... Not friendship"

"Oh, that's good. Feelings” – Aziraphale answered with mocking seriousness “Well, that's a thing about us, creatures with soul and mind - we all have feelings. I have feelings, you have feelings..."

"It's not what I meant…"

"And what DID you mean, my dear?"

"I meant that... That I started feeling... That I might be... Oh, damn” Crowley realized how stupid he sounded. “I think I'm in love with you"

"You think so?"

"I guess"

"You guess?”, Aziraphale grinned unkindly. “Oh, then your guess is as good as mine"

"Aziraphale! Please. Please, listen"

"What do you want me to do, dear boy?”, the angel said through his teeth. “Help you figure it out, whether you're in love with me or not? Shall we have, what is it - oh, a test-drive? And if it turns out you were not, after all..."

"No, no, no, no!” Crowley was in panic again “That's not what I meant. What I said. Uuugghhhh, fuck!"

"Language"

"Sorry... Listen, I'm in love with you. Okay? I am"

"How did you figure it out so shortly?” The anger in Aziraphale’s voice started letting out some of his pain. “A minute ago you were not so sure"

"I was. I was. I’m an idiot, angel. I'm just nervous. I've never done this before"

"And that's so very sweet”, Aziraphale smiled, but that smile was nothing like it used to be. “But what if, my dear, you wake up tomorrow and find yourself doubting again - whether or not you love me, what then?"

"It won't happen. I know". Crowley stepped up and took Aziraphale by the shoulders.

"Do you?” Aziraphale’s eyes were strikingly blue in the streetlight. “Well, I don't. Sorry, my dear, I think I have to go home now. I have lots of things to prepare"

Aziraphale started to walk away, and Crowley had to run to stop him.

“Do you want me to beg, to get on my knees? Is that what you want?”, he pleaded in agitation and started lowering his knees.

“Don’t!” Aziraphale shouted unexpectedly harsh, and Crowley stopped. “Don’t you dare embarrass me in the middle of the street. Don’t you dare guilt me”

“I don’t want to guilt you”, Crowley said more softly now, exhausted. “I love you. I need you. I think about you all the time, all the bloody time. These last years were so good, I was so happy. You made me happy. Please, angel. I love you. I do”

Aziraphale fell silent and lowered his eyes. When he looked up, he looked resentful.

“Do you have a single idea, how I felt all that time, Crowley?”, he asked bitterly.

“No, I don’t. Tell me. Please”

“What’s there to tell? That time, in Switzerland, for one thing…”

“What about Switzerland? I don’t understand”

“Of course. How can you? The waiter mistook us for a couple. You looked disgusted when he said that”. Aziraphale’s voice trembled when he said that. Crowley was overwhelmed with shock.

“Why would I be disgusted, angel? I swear I wasn’t! I was madly anxious, I was all over the place – that bit is true, yes, but…”

“You’re ashamed of me, Crowley. Have the decency to admit it”

Crowley felt like the ground was spinning beneath his feet. It had never once occurred to him that Aziraphale could possibly feel that way.

“Angel, I don’t understand you. Why would I be ashamed of you?”

“Maybe because you’re, how do young people say it these days, “out of my league”?”, Aziraphale said now without a hint of his previous calmness.

“What is that supposed to mean, Aziraphale?”

“Well, you’re handsome, you’re attractive, you’re stylish, and I see the way people look at you. Both genders. And I’m not. None of that. I’m old-fashioned, I’m short, I’m plump, I’m bookish, I probably carry a ton of book dust on my jumper and I lost count of times you made fun of my clothes when we went out together”. Aziraphale’s voice sounded as if he was about to cry.

Crowley stepped closer in astonishment and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale’s.

“Why do you say that? Why would you even say that?”, he whispered in anguish. “You are perfect the way you are, and I like you that way. You smell amazing, you’re an angel, damn you! I don’t give a shit what you’re wearing, you can wear a potato sack for all I care. I love you, how can you not…”

Aziraphale pulled away. He looked more reserved once again.

“I will go to Rome, Crowley. I need this job, it’s what I love to do. I wanted to do it for a long time but preferred to stay in London with you. Now I changed my mind”

"Can I come to you? In Rome?"

"Well I can't forbid you to come wherever you please, but I most certainly will be busy, I am afraid".

"Fine, but you will come back to London. Every fortnight, right?"

"Such a lovely old word. Yes, that was my idea"

That was at least something.

"Can I see you here, when you come to London? Take you out?"

"Well, I will be pretty busy with my bookshop during the day, but I think I will have some free time in the evening every now and then"

Aziraphale’s eyes softened at last. There was some hope.

"It's better than nothing. Look... I think I hurt you last night” Crowley said reluctantly. “I swear I saw that you wanted me to walk you home. You wanted... Something more. Am I right? Did you? Please, just tell me..."

"I did want it. What of it, now?"

"So, you felt something for me?", Crowley asked all his hope in his eyes.

"You're quite smart for someone of such little - only 6000 years - experience"

"And now? Do you..."

"Of course, I do, you snake-brained demon” Aziraphale snarled. “That doesn't mean I'm here for you to play with and be at service until you make up your mind"

Crowley leaned closer once again.

"I wish I could go back and..."

"But you can't. Can you? Neither can I. So once again, I'm grateful for your frankness but I do need to go. I'll take a cab"

Aziraphale stepped away. Crowley grabbed him by his sleeve.

"Will you call me when you come back?"

"I will if I have a spare minute"

"Let me kiss you goodbye"

"Sure", Aziraphale said and turned his head. It was obvious what he meant, but that didn't mean Crowley had to comply. He lowered his head as if he was aiming for the angel's cheek, but instead planted a light kiss on the corner of his mouth. Aziraphale was still excruciatingly calm.

"See you", Aziraphale said and paced towards the parking station.

New hope made Crowley happy and unbearably anxious at the same time. Aziraphale hadn’t told him when exactly he was going to come back and when he was going to call, but Crowley knew that he had at least wait three weeks.

And wait he did.

After three weeks passed by, every waking hour Crowley was restlessly pacing around his telephone. Luckily for him, by the evening of the second day of this torturing waiting, the phone finally rang.

“Yes!” – Crowley answered within a second, “Angel, is that you?”

“Who else might it be, dear boy, Jehovah witnesses ?” – there was a playfulness in the angel’s tone that sounded like music.

“Oh, that’s great! You sound happy, angel, is that the Italian diet? Did all that pizza made your English heart melt like mozzarella?” – Crowley sang into the phone, grinning like an idiot.

“Not yet, but it still might. You can come tomorrow to the bookshop, at 12 A.M. I’ll be free till night” – Aziraphale said rather gladly. “And don’t you try going there now. I’m not there. And don’t come earlier. So. See you soon?”

“Bye, angel,” Crowley said, still grinning until he heard long beeps.

The next morning Crowley bought some flowers, dressed up and positively convinced himself that he was going to be gallant, reserved and old-fashioned – something, he thought, Aziraphale would’ve wanted him to be. But all his cool exterior went to pieces as he saw the angel step out of the bookshop in his oh-so-familiar beige coat.

“Angel!”, he shouted stupidly, and before Aziraphale could possibly answer, he picked him up bride style.

“You’re light as a feather, angel, is Italian pasta so bad these days?”, he asked, while looking at Aziraphale’s astonished face.

“Put me down this very moment, Crowley” – Aziraphale said seriously, but his eyes smiled. Oh, how relieved Crowley was to see it…

“These are for you”, Crowley said, clumsily holding the flowers. “I think I carried you both, so…”

“I’ll put them in a vase. You wait for me here”, the angel said in a businesslike tone, entering the bookshop. Crowley waited outside with the same stupid smile on his face.

When Aziraphale walked out, Crowley grabbed him by the hand and led to his Bentley. The day they spent was a typical day they always had together, in the best sense of this word – the stiffness and coldness seemed to have been vanishing and now Crowley was trying to seize every opportunity to be closer to the angel. They took a long walk in the park, fed the ducks, and Aziraphale told Crowley about his work in Rome. He was childishly enthusiastic about it, and Crowley also noticed that the Italian sun brought a tint of pinkness to the angel’s cheeks. It warmed his heart to see Aziraphale like that. Crowley didn’t want to scare him away with his eagerness, so he only kissed him on the cheek a couple of times, which the angel gladly welcomed, but he didn’t let go of his hand for hours. It seemed to Crowley if he let his hand, the angel would disappear into thin air.

By the evening, when they were having dinner with some fine champagne, Aziraphale even started to laugh the same was he used to before their fight. Still, he was adamant in his will to leave Crowley by his bookshop strictly at 8 P.M.

As they stood near the doorway, Crowley pulled him closer, put his hand on Aziraphale’s cheek and kissed him on the lips. The angel kissed him back but leaned out within a few moments.

“Angel”, Crowley said impatiently. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m sorry I hurt you. I…”

“Don’t push me, Crowley”, Aziraphale said softly. “I’m not ready yet. I’ll tell you in time”

“Let me come to Rome”, Crowley went on steadily. “I’ll rent my own flat, I won’t bother you while you work. It’s damn cold and damp in England and it’s nothing here for me with you gone. I like Rome, I lived there, you remember…”

“Of course, I do!”, Aziraphale scoffed. “You and Cesare Borgia…”

“To Hell with Borgia and all his bastards”, Crowley said dismissively. “It’s warm in Rome and I can go back to my sketching and drawing, you’ve been nagging me about it for years… And I’ll see you more often. I need to see you more often, angel. I miss you so much”

“Well”, the angel said discreetly. “If you insist to come, you might as well take that car of yours. Public transport in Italy is a complete nightmare”.

“Fine, I’ll use the tunnel and drive through France”, Crowley said enthusiastically “May even pick you a croissant from Paris, huh?”

“Oh, please”, Aziraphale laughed. “A stale croissant is all I need. A great romantic, Crowley”

Crowley leaned closer and kissed him once again, more insistently, and, to his delight, he felt the angel’s smile on his own lips. He opened his eyes. It was That Smile he had already lost any hope of seeing again.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, give you my address and phone number in Rome”, Aziraphale said flirtatiously. “Now let me go this very instant”.

He gave Crowley one last smiling glance and entered the bookshop. Crowley let out a sigh of relief – probably the most relieved sigh since the non-Apocalypse.

**Epilogue.**

“Isn’t it fitting, to meet this new millennium in the city of Rome?”, Aziraphale said, looking dreamily to the sky.

“Not for the likes of us, I’m afraid”, Crowley said, holding Aziraphale’s hand firmly. “We both remember do many chronologies that this one is hardly special”

“Still, Crowley. It seems to have been not so long ago, the beginning of Christianity… And it’s already two thousand years now”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer and kissed him on the forehead.

“Might be. But it’s less than a year since you are mine”

“Yours already?”, Aziraphale asked with mocking surprise and grievance. “It’s alright”, he went on with a smile. “I love you too, dear boy”.


End file.
